Meanwhile Gar, from his place at the wheel, could be heard questioning Rosa. She was sitting in front because that position was deemed the easiest riding, and now, as they all sped off toward Fernlode, some of the terrors of the accident seemed lifted.
“No fooling now, Rosa,” Gar was saying, “how did that happen? You can’t fool me—”
“Gar Durand! How does a broken leg ever happen? It just breaks, doesn’t it?” evaded Rosa.
“Not just like that, it doesn’t. It has to get broken, and I’ll bet a peanut you were up to something—”
“The dopy-doc has got to fix you up, Rosa, you know,” interrupted Dell. “Perhaps we had better pick him up or give him a call on our way out. You know what a fuss he makes about night visits.”
“Margot would simply pass away and we’d have a double funeral, if we brought the dopy-doc up to the house, bodily,” replied Rosa. “Not that I want him a—tall—”
“Better get him,” insisted Gar. “I can’t keep lugging you around—”
“As if I’d let you!” Rosa parried.
“If you keep on getting better this way, Rosa,” put in Nancy, “I don’t believe you’ll need any doctor.”
“Bright idea! Wonderful coz! I don’t want the dopy-doc,” exclaimed Rosa. “Why should I have him until—”